Frailty
by serapharchimedis
Summary: Are you there, dear sister? I've invited the devil into our home...Told through first person perspective, Cecily undergoes harsh treatment at the hands of none other than Victor Creed.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did:) Okay, there's torture, explicit sexual content, and all the Creed you can handle.   
  
This story is AU, and will be finished as soon as I get some feedback from it. I have two possible endings for it, yet I'm   
  
kinda confused on how to continue....  
  
He cracked my jaw that night. I can barely write to you, my dear sister.   
  
It's hard enough to see with two eyes in this dark...room, let alone with one good eye.   
  
I'll repay him for that, I promise you. Are you surprised, dear sister?   
  
Before, your straight- forward, God-fearing sibling would never even say, let alone think  
  
about harming another. No one has the right to take a human life...no one...so how do they do   
  
it so easily? It's like a game to them...no, not a game...a way of life.  
  
The sun was beginning to set, bringing wraiths to dance across the walls.   
  
They would haunt me, as they always did, whispering...always whispering....   
  
The door opened, without the locks this time. They didn't bother locking the door anymore.   
  
They know...they know, dear sister, they've broken me....  
  
"Weeping, again?" he rasped amusedly. His voice, once beautiful to me, grated down my   
  
spine. Everytime he came near, my whole body tenses painfully, and I feel like I'm being flayed  
  
alive. Who knows? Maybe they left that torture for tonight.  
  
His calloused hands scraped my raw skin as he unlocked my shackles. I don't even bother   
  
to rub my limbs before he grabs me by my arms and slams me against the rough stone wall.   
  
"Are you going to beg, little girl?" he whispered, smirking and showing off his fangs. In the   
  
beginning, those fangs fascinated me. How could a human man ever possess fangs? How could a   
  
human girl be stupid enough not to know, not to guess what he is...what I am? Freak, freak,  
  
freak, freak-  
  
"DON'T YOU FUCKING CALL ME THAT!" I slid slowly down the floor, my nose freshly bleeding,   
  
broken again. Why could I not stop myself? Why could I still speak? I had been chanting that   
  
word out loud, unconsiously.  
  
He turned towards me again after pacing the small, airless room several times.  
  
Tilting my chin up gently, he stroked my face. "Ahh, frail," he tsked, bringing his bloody   
  
fingers to his face and licking at the blood, while staring into my dazed eyes. "Perhaps I've   
  
been too lenient..." he slid his hand down my face, closing my eyes before he gripped my throat,  
  
throwing me onto the stagnant bloodstained bed. His hands strayed down my body until he   
  
possessed my waist. I kept my eyes on him the whole time, dear sister. Why, you might ask?   
  
Because he hates my gaze on him. It bothers him to see goodness staring at him. He knows, he   
  
knows that God will punish him for this. God will punish him, God will punish him, God will   
  
punish him...  
  
CRACK!!  
  
Slowly, he pulled away from the bed, staring at the bloody, helpless girl on the moth-ridden  
  
bed. He'd broken her jaw for sure that time, he smirked to himself, then frowned darkly.   
  
"God will punish me?" he whispered in her ear, gripping her breast. "Well, then, if He'll   
  
punish me, might as well..."he trailed off, ripping open her tattered shirt.  
  
Often had he thought to touch her sexually,yet lately he'd been content to follow his boss's orders.  
  
Break her spirit, trample her soul, crush her body, then perhaps kill her later, after they'd gotten  
  
what they were after. Caressing her naked body, he mused to himself how easy it had been,   
  
capturing their greatest threat. 


	2. Deception

Chapter Two: Deception  
  
Snow blew roughly through the mountains of Western Canada, blocking in all who lived   
  
in the valley below. A small house built in the traditional cabin style sat in the center of  
  
a fenced in farm. A chickencoop, outhouse, and small barn were strategically placed around the   
  
small dwelling, yet no animals were housed in the buildings during the winter. They were kept   
  
at Old Man Logan's on the other side of the mountains until a chinook blew in to unthaw the   
  
untamed land. Old Man Logan was chosen to look after the animals because he was the only  
  
one who could survive in this forsaken country during winter.  
  
Cecily stood by the window, arms folded over her plaid covered chest, staring into the   
  
storm. She said a silent prayer that she'd sent her sister to help Old Man Logan during this   
  
season. Merry had become restless lately, but that was to be said of any fifteen year old girl.  
  
Logan would teach her how to survive and all the life's lessons that he'd taught Cecily   
  
when their father had taken ill. Their father, Jacob, had passed on last year, forcing Cecily  
  
back home from her sixth year of med school. How proud her father was when Cecily settled on  
  
becoming a doctor. Anyone in that profession were scarce in their part of the country, except  
  
Doctor McNaught two territories over, although he was on his last leg and rapidly considering  
  
retirement.   
  
Turning from the storm with a small sigh, Cecily laid on her couch and pulled her favorite  
  
yarn woven blue blanket over her. Yawning wearily, she snuggled into it's warmth and slept.  
  
Her last thoughts were of her beautiful little sister, and their cantankerous neighbor. She   
  
wondered what he was showing impressionable Merry right now...  
  
THWUMP!  
  
Swearing, Cecily jumped from her slumber, stumbling to the back door. She grabbed her   
  
trusty wooden ballbat on the way, then peered through the side window, scanning the forest behind  
  
her house. Her heart jumped into her chest when she saw the dark form lying on her snow  
  
covered doorstep. His head was covered in bed and he looked soaked to the bone.  
  
Quickly, she slid on her boots and jacket before opening the door. Good heavens, he's enormous!  
  
After her initial panic, her medical training kicked in, forcing her to move quickly. She put her   
  
body under his right arm and half carried, half dragged his hulking form into her bathroom.   
  
Thank goodness the outhouse was just for visitors, she grinned halfheartedly, filling the tub  
  
with luke-warm water after sitting him on the floor. One thing Logan had taught her was to  
  
never put a frostbitten body into hot water, that only made it worse.  
  
While the tub was filling, she turned to her patient and checked him over to make sure  
  
nothing was broken before checking his pupils. Hmm, he seems fine, she thought while undressing  
  
him. His clothes were heavy, soaken with melted snow. Once she'd stripped him bare, she cleaned  
  
his bloody head with a warm wet cloth. She looked over his head, but could find no cut.   
  
Stumped, she half carried him over to the tub, gently lowering him into it's semi-warmth.  
  
Making sure that he wouldn't fall under the water, she went to her cupboards and warmed up a jar of  
  
homemade chicken soup. While it was heating, she ran back to her patient and found him looking  
  
up at her. His eyes were a clear sky blue, their intensity causing a shiver to race down her   
  
spine. Mentally shaking it off, she hurried to his side.   
  
"Do you know who you are?" she asked, kneeling beside the tub.  
  
He nodded silently, trailing his right hand down his face, wearily, she assumed.  
  
"Can you speak?"  
  
He nodded again, still not speaking. Then he yawned, exposing straight white teeth, and his  
  
overlarge incisors. Cecily started at the sight of his fangs. Would wonders never cease? she muttered  
  
to herself.  
  
"You can't fall asleep, alright? You might still have a concusion. Does your throat hurt?"  
  
He shook his head no, his eyes starting to narrow.  
  
"May I look? Please don't worry, my name is Cecily, and I'm a pre-med." She waited a moment  
  
impatiently, wondering to herself if she'd have to pry his mouth open when he yawned again, leaving his   
  
mouth open for her to inspect. Cautiously, she leaned forward, gently tilting his head back  
  
a little further to look at his throat in the light.   
  
"Well, it's not red, and I don't see any abrasions on your neck. Will you speak to me?" She  
  
asked him slowly, reaching for his hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze.   
  
"My name is Victor," he rasped, his deep voice appealing and sounding like it   
  
hadn't been used in years.   
  
Cecily smiled at him, exposing her own white teeth. "Hello, Victor," she replied, letting go  
  
of his hand and reaching for a large cotton bath sheet. "Let's get you out of this tub and into  
  
some clothes, okay? Do you need help standing?"  
  
Victor nodded slowly, reaching an arm around her shoulders. She helped him stand in the tub,   
  
then waited patiently while he stepped out. She wrapped him in the bath sheet before gently   
  
walking him to her bedroom. She helped him sit down on the side of the bed after helping him dry  
  
off. Taking the damp towel, she hung it in the bathroom.   
  
"Are these okay,"she asked while sorting through the baggy drawstring pants and cotton long  
  
sleeved shirt in her hands. "The pants might be too short, but I have some socks, too..."she trailed  
  
off, gasping as she bumped into his chest. Victor stood there, staring down at her  
  
with his fathomless eyes. "You need to lie down,"she murmered, helping him into the pants, then  
  
the shirt. Thank goodness for those years in pre-med, or I'd be blushing like a schoolgirl!  
  
He sat down on the bed, putting on the socks himself. She plumped up her mound of pillows behind  
  
his back and head and pulled the heavy comforter over his long form.  
  
"I'll be right back, but first things first," Cecily said as she slid a thermometer under his  
  
tongue. "Don't talk, and I'll be back, okay?"  
  
He stared at her, and closed his mouth.  
  
She took the soup off the stove and poured it into a large earthen ware bowl. Along with  
  
the soup she placed tomato juice, orange juice and water alongside it. As an afterthought,  
  
she placed a shot of Logan's whiskey beside the juice and carried it into her bedroom.  
  
Victor was staring out at the window, his throat working convulsively. Cecily placed the tray  
  
across his lap, the legs on each side accident proof against any spills he might make on her  
  
bed. Taking the thermometer from his mouth, she glanced down at it and sighed in relief. 98.6.  
  
"Well, that's a good sign,"Cecily smiled, before turning back to him. Everything was still  
  
full except the shotglass. Her dark brown eyes shot down to his hands, which were shaking slightly.  
  
"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods,"she deadpaned, sitting beside him and  
  
nonchalantly bringing a spoonful of soup to his lips. He paused, staring into her eyes before  
  
slowly opening his mouth.  
  
Cecily fed him the entire bowl, and was just reaching for the tomato juice when he spoke.  
  
"Drink it,"he rasped,"can't stand the stuff."  
  
"Okay,"she agreed, reaching for the glass-his hand shot out, grasping her wrist.  
  
A startled breath escaped her tight throat. Had she made a mistake taking him in? Was he  
  
deranged or worse, dangerous? Her bright eyes stared into his suddenly clear blue eyes.  
  
"Thank you..."he said huskily. He moved to let go of her wrist before he spotted   
  
the thin line of blood his sharp nail had made. Cecily held her breath when she followed his   
  
gaze. Her breath caught in her throat as he slowly brought her wrist to his mouth, his nostrils flaring.   
  
His heavy lidded eyes bore into hers as he gently kissed the area, his rough tongue slowly,  
  
sensuously following the line of blood. Cecily's stomach clenched, she sat there mesmerized.   
  
"I, uh..."she whispered, not noticing him setting aside the tray.  
  
Victor didn't bother responding. Instead he kept his eyes locked to hers, pulling her  
  
forward until her chest was flush with his, her legs entwining with his under the blanket.  
  
Tangling his hand in her long chestnut hair, he firmly grasped the nape of her neck and pulled   
  
her forward. Cecily nervously licked her lips. Victor's glanced sharply at the movement.  
  
Abruptly, he seized her mouth with his, parting her lips and plunging his tongue inside. Cecily   
  
moaned, entangling her tongue with his, her trembling hands softly pulling at his thicket of  
  
chest hair. He groaned, a deep growl that erupted from his chest, tightening his hold on her neck  
  
and squeezing her firm ass with the other.   
  
Suddenly, he rolled over, pinning her beneath him. Amazingly, his great bulk didn't   
  
crush her, but Cecily wouldn't have noticed. Cecily gasped for breath as he trailed his tongue down her throat, dipping it into  
  
the hollow and twirled it around. She didn't notice his hands pinning her to the bed as she  
  
quelled her mind and allowed herself to simply feel. Never before had she felt desire   
  
this strongly. In med-school, she'd only had one boyfriend, which only lasted a month when she  
  
wouldn't sleep with him. Her father and Logan had instilled strong moral ethics in both sisters, especially  
  
since their mother had died during birth with Merry. Logan had always made her laugh with his  
  
craggy opinion; 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk fer free?'   
  
Cecily's eyes shot open. What was she doing?! "I can't do this," Cecily gasped, struggling  
  
against his hold. Victor's face was inches from hers, he tilted his head, much like a predator  
  
would while watching it's prey.   
  
"Do what, doc?"he snarled, brushing his lips against hers, his fangs grazing her full   
  
bottom lip. He sucked it into his mouth, lapping at the blood.  
  
Cecily stilled, arousal mixing with fear. She relaxed her body, then sprang him off her.  
  
He hit the floor with a thud. Both quickly stood, panting, facing each other over her bed.  
  
"Look, I just wanted to help you, not sleep with you," she panted. "This was a mistake,"Cecily muttered,  
  
running her hands agitatedly through her hair. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip,  
  
wincing as she felt the cut he'd made.   
  
She left the room, going to her dryer where his clothes were. Pulling them out, she folded them  
  
then quickly walked back to her room. She set them on the bed, not quite letting herself  
  
look at him, her face flushed, her eyes faintly ashamed. He must think I'm a-, but she didn't get   
  
to finish that thought because he'd bounded over the bed and slammed her up against the wall.  
  
"I never said I needed your help, little girl,"he snarled, his eyes bright and maddened.  
  
"B-but, the blood-"  
  
"Who said it was my blood?"he smirked, triumphant when terror filled her.   
  
"I want you to leave-NOW!"she ordered, struggling against him.  
  
He grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the wall. Cecily screamed, dazed. She could  
  
feel blood running down her neck, soaking her hair. "I will leave, doc, but not without my  
  
trophy."  
  
Cecily's head throbbed, she felt nausous. "W-what trophy?"she asked faintly, the room  
  
wouldn't quit spinning, she felt so weak....  
  
Victor leaned down until his face was a breath from hers. His maniac eyes bore into  
  
her dazed ones. "Why, you, little girl." he boasted proudly.  
  
Cecily started struggling in earnest then, her foot flying up into his groin.  
  
Surprised, he dropped her to cup himself. He'd let himself believe she was too disoriented to   
  
fight back. The next thing he knew, a wooden ballbat was being swung at him. With surprising  
  
force, it connected with his throat, shattering, he went flying back and slammed into the other wall.  
  
Cecily didn't wait to see if he was following her. She tore out of her house and ran to  
  
the barn, where she kept her skijet. Frantically, she revved it, and raced out of there.   
  
She had no idea how she'd get to Logan's, but she knew she had to. Her life depended on it.  
  
Never in her life had she wished her cell phone worked then at this moment. It wouldn't have   
  
mattered, she knew, because Logan didn't believe in phones. 'Damn contraptions are nuisances. I'd  
  
rather shit on a bear then use one a them things.'  
  
Oh how she wished she'd gone with Merry to stay there. But she had to have her stupid  
  
downtime from college. All thoughts were wiped from her head when she heard the demented  
  
howl coming not far from behind her. He'll kill me, she realized. She couldn't believe  
  
she'd let that-that animal touch her. She couldn't believe he'd tried to abduct her, he'd-he'd  
  
staged everything-everything! she thought incredulously. Why? Shit, forget why! He's after  
  
you, girl, and if he catches you-Cecily shuddered, not letting herself finish that thought.  
  
The pass! I have to get there, she frantically thought. Logan will hear me if I just get to  
  
the pass! It wasn't completely blocked yet! She whimpered when she heard the demented howls  
  
getting closer. He wasn't human! No one human could run that rast! She didn't dare look behind  
  
her. She revved her engine, shooting farther over the deep snow. Blinking rapidly against  
  
the snow flying into her face, she wiggled her nose and moved her mouth around, trying to   
  
stave off the frigid cold.   
  
She was almost there! Almost-there! "NOOOOOO!!!LOOOGGAAAN-LOOGAAN!!LO-"he tackled her,  
  
leaving the skijet to go on without her, veering crazily before crashing into a tall pine tree.  
  
Kicking out at him, she stumbled to her feet and ran to the pass, her light weight barely   
  
sinking into the hard packed snow. "LOOOOOGGAAAAN!!! OH GOD LOOGGAAAN!!"  
  
The world went black. He had won. He would kill her. Oh, Logan...please protect Merry. 


	3. Resurrection

Chapter Three: Resurrection  
  
Across the mountain pass, Logan started, straightening from chopping wood. Or rather, from  
  
shouting instructions to Merry on how to chop wood. She could barely hear him over the howling  
  
of the wind. With his heightened hearing, he could hear a rabbit shitting in the next territory,  
  
he mused, bending over to pick up the mutilated chopped wood. That's when he heard it.  
  
Loooggaann.....  
  
"Merry, get inside, no, no, nothing's wrong, just take the ax with you. I have to go, alright?"  
  
he said urgently, taking her by the arms roughly.   
  
"But, why?"Merry asked, uncertainty clear in her light brown eyes. "Is it Cici? Is something  
  
wrong-"Logan quickly pulled her to him, gently stroking her long, straight brown hair. "Everything's  
  
okay, okay,kiddo?"   
  
Merry quickly nodded, her pretty face set in a frown of worry. "I want you to go inside  
  
and tell Henry to watch after you. Give him this name, okay? Sabretooth- ya got that? Repeat it." He nodded, satisfied when  
  
she clearly repeated him. After giving her another instruction, Logan ran to his skijet. He  
  
tore across the terrain, his heart heavy, like a sunken weight. It had happened. Damn that   
  
dog, he'd said everything was covered, that Sabretooth was confined, that his mind was gone.  
  
Dammit, Jacob, I won't let them do this-I won't!  
  
Logan frantically surveyed the crashed skijet. Her scent was there, heavy with blood and fear,  
  
and so was that sick, sadistic sonovabitch's! Fifty feet from there, Logan lost their scent.   
  
But he knew where they'd gone. Oh yes, he knew. He knew it would be impossible to get her back. His dark blue  
  
eyes grew bright, the black pupils almost blocking out the color. Logan took a hike, the long  
  
dead Wolverine took over, snarling fiercely. Blood, blood, blood...Wolverine craved it, and soon  
  
he'd be dancing in Sabretooth's. Right after he ripped off that fucker's head, and shit down  
  
his fucking neck! 


	4. Traumatic Beginning

Chapter Four: Traumatic beginning  
  
I woke up in a small stone cell. It was musty, but thank goodness it didn't smell of   
  
urine or anything horrible, like we'd always heard from abducted people's accounts. Do you   
  
remember, dear sister? How we thought we were so safe from that trauma, that our codewords  
  
we invented would protect us in times like that. That all of father's and Logans teachings  
  
would prevent it, that we could escape in time. Oh, dear sister, how I wish I had never  
  
opened my door that night. I wish I had given in to your pleas to stay with you. But I can't  
  
look back now. I can only look ahead. To the pain, dear sister, the pain....  
  
He came to me that night. That-man-that-animal. The disgust in my eyes enraged him,  
  
so he sought to fix that. He struck me so hard in my right eye, I knew that I would never  
  
be able to see again. How I wished I wouldn't be able to see his face, that once handsome face  
  
that I had desired so. I should have known he was dangerous. How could I not? With him  
  
standing well over six foot five, with his long, leanly, yet heavily muscled body? With hands  
  
the size of my face, square tipped fingernails turning to claws before my very eyes? Yes,  
  
I had been duped, dear sister, at first by his ploy, and then by my own damn body. He knew that  
  
I had desired him, even before I did. How, you ask? His senses, those godawful senses of his,  
  
stronger than a grizzly's, those senses are.   
  
"Don't worry, doc, I'm not here to rape you, if you were worried. Although,"he smirked, thoughtfully  
  
stroking his strong jaw, flinging back his shoulder length wavy blonde hair,"you would probably  
  
beg me to. You couldn't get enough of me, could you? Whore!"he spat at me, slamming  
  
his body down onto mine. I could barely breathe, he was crushing me, gyrating his groin into my  
  
hips. "You wanted it badly, didn't you, whore?"he snarled, biting my shoulder, sucking on   
  
the blood that ran freely from the cut. I cried, ashamedly, I cried, pleading with him to stop.  
  
I pleaded with that monster! And do you know what he did, dear sister?   
  
He reared his head back, laughing maniacally, blood dripping down his chin, coating his   
  
mouth, staining his once white teeth. His laughter...his laughter is how I imagine the devil  
  
himself would show amusement, deep, wild, disgusting, wet laughter.  
  
I prayed to die quickly, because in that laugh, I heard my torment to come. 


	5. Promises

Chapter Five: Promises  
  
The days after that were a blur. How long was I unconsious? Hell, everytime he left  
  
my cell, I was sinking into blessed darkness. At least when I slipped away, I couldn't think,  
  
couldn't cry, couldn't feel. Oh yes, he made me feel. He made me burn, but not like he had  
  
in the cabin. No, that would come later....  
  
Later on the night that he'd broken my jaw, a tall, thin, grey haired man came in. I could  
  
not see his eyes, although his face was cruel. They were all cruel. Blaring light glared  
  
off his small round glasses as he moved closer. Roughly, his hand closed over my jaw, causing me  
  
to scream in pain. "Too bad he was here to hear that one, young lady. He loves to hear   
  
stupid young women scream." The man in the white overcoat said before plunging a needle into  
  
my jaw. I jerked as he left, not worrying about his handy work. I grasped the beds edges as   
  
the syrum in the needle spread like fire through my body. I prayed to be with you, dear sister,  
  
away from this intense, horrifying pain. My mouth worked like a fish, open, close, open, close, then-  
  
numbness, blessed numbness. Whatever was in that needle was pure evil, dear sister. For you  
  
see, that tiny little amount of syrum completely healed me. My jaw, my eye, the bites, the   
  
slashes that had clotted, all gone, leaving my skin as smooth as when I'd last waved goodbye  
  
to you.  
  
I sat straight up on that dingy bed, blinking my eyes in amazement. I was healed, the   
  
pain was gone. I felt better than I'd felt since long before the long hours I put in at college.  
  
I smiled, then I laughed. Oh, but not the clear, beautiful laugh you remember since we were young,   
  
dear sister. It was madness, that laughter, that keening, screaming laughter. I was still  
  
laughing even after the two assistants washed me, changed the mattress and bedding, and pulled  
  
the cotton shirt over me with the cotton underwear. At least I was clean and clothed. But   
  
the laughter did not stop, not when they were there, not when they left, and then, he was there,   
  
standing in the doorway, not smirking, not showing anything in that once beautiful face of his.  
  
He slammed the door shut and placed a finger gently over my mouth, silencing my bout of   
  
mad laughter. My body shook while I suppressed it, then it began again, louder than before, and   
  
more forceful. He hated that laughter, I could tell, but he also reveled in it. I was insane,  
  
like he, only I was not sick. Not sick, like him....  
  
He quietly removed my shackles, picked them up, and then, just left. Hours later-was it hours  
  
or days?-I stopped laughing. I slumped back onto my new clean pillow and stretched out on the  
  
larger mattress. The previous mattress had been small, not fitting the large spring frame beneath  
  
it. I should have questioned why it was like that, but I didn't care. For the first time  
  
since I arrived there, I didn't care. I wasn't in pain, that monster had left me alone without  
  
punishment and I was comfortable. The only thing I needed now was- just then the door opened   
  
and an assistant came in with a plateful of wonderful, nourishing food. Perhaps it was poisoned,  
  
along with the glass of water, milk and...tomato juice. I prayed it was poisoned, then, with a  
  
shrug, I threw the glass of tomato juice at the door, chewing on my steak and nodding when it  
  
shattered. I love that sound. The breaking of glass. Who knew your soul would sound that way,  
  
when it broke?   
  
The assistant waited patiently for me to finish eating, then he cleaned up the mess, and   
  
left. I walked by myself over to the adjoining door into the sterile metal bathroom. The   
  
assistants always helped me before this, but now the shackles were off and I could do normal  
  
things on my own. No humiliation, although the assistants, though masked, never stayed in here  
  
with me, except when I was incapable of walking by myself, and they never watched or did  
  
anything that would shame me. But their presence was enough.  
  
I was allowed to take a shower by myself the next day. I stood under the pelting hot  
  
water for hours, not moving, just standing there, willing the scalding water to wash this   
  
away. Willing it to take me back to you, dear sister. I washed, then rinsed my hair three  
  
times, because then I felt clean. Then I felt like none of this was real. I closed my   
  
eyes, I was at home, showering at home. You were sitting on the counter, like you often did,  
  
playing with my makeup, chattering about the latest hottie to catch your attention. Who was it  
  
this time, dear sister? Ah, yes, your latest crush was a british talking vampire with   
  
bleached hair on that slayer show. Yes, I do agree, dear sister, he is very yummy, I would   
  
answer, rolling my eyes while smiling. Then the door would be knocked on, and you would  
  
run to answer it to Logan. I can see you even now, your latest catch phrase already on your  
  
lips as you answer the door. Only it isn't Logan, it's that monster, and he's in here with me  
  
now, dear sister. I can sense him, and at first my body tenses, then, for some reason unknown  
  
to me, I relax. Because you are safe, dear sister, with Logan. Logan will protect you. I   
  
will willingly go through hell to never have you know this torment. I relax, and wait for the  
  
glass door to slide open. I miss you, dear sister, and I will be with you. I swear. 


End file.
